[He's more than relieved to see her, happy she's still alright, but there's a weight of surprise that follows when she's suddenly pressed tight within his arms, holding him as if to keep him from disappearing again. While it shouldn't be, the act is almost foreign to him. Whenever he's left the village for days, comes back after never leaving a word of the stunt, he'll get a few punches to the arm from Astrid, about a dozen bruises to show it, or a hefty scolding from Stoick, reminding him for the hundredth and sixteenth time to stop abandoning his duties to the village.
But he doesn't get welcomings like this, nothing that's ever made him feel guilty for leaving despite this scenario hardly being his fault, nothing that's ever really made him feel missed while he was gone. Vikings don't cry if they can help it that even the hints of a sob tear into his chest.
His arms slip around her waist, tucking around a hoodie that finally starts to feel familiar to him. He smiles subtly within her hair when he recognizes it, pressing his nose there as he holds her in the embrace, no plans on letting go until she's ready for it (or until he needs to catch a breath from the tight hold, whichever comes first).]
Kind of feels like I did. Wouldn't be the first time. [He's got an ongoing tally of almost-death scenarios at this point.] But no, I'm — I'm here. Still in one piece. Mostly, anyway. At least I still got one foot.
[ Her laugh is short-lived as she starts to cry, tears welling up that she hides by hunching against him. Seeing him again in the flesh, hearing him speak and joke so casually, the reality of it rips into her. Verity can count her real friends on one hand and the number fell when Hiccup vanished. ]
I went home too, but yours is a thousand years in the past because you're a Viking and I didn't want you to be dead, and you had to have been if you weren't here. I didn't know how to find you and I couldn't pretend you were alright — I couldn't.
[He can joke about sprawling into the world a thousand years ahead of it's time, but the reality of it is that he would be dead. He can escape death as many times as he's able, somehow relying on luck whenever it seemed to cling to him, but living for a thousand years would never be in the cards. If time moved the way it was meant to, he wouldn't ever reach this place.]
I'm sorry. I — I wouldn't have just left like that if I could help it. [It's the honest truth. Not without ever giving her a proper goodbye at least. Some people here have become just too important to just walk out on without a word.] I wasn't even at Berk. One second I was here and the next I was still here, but, uh, just apparently took a snooze for a few months or something.
[Whatever that was. Much too complicated. It doesn't even matter right now.] But I am here. This is real, okay? There's no pretending needed, Verity.
[ This is real. Taking a steadying breath as she rubs her eyes, she pecks him on the cheek with an official murmur of Welcome back, I missed you. Verity puts some space between them, offering a hitched-up smile and patting him on the shoulder. ]
They gutted your old apartment but I boxed up a few things, just in case. Some of your old, uh, clothes.
[ One hoodie of which was generously donated to the Sad Girl Willis cause. ]
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But he doesn't get welcomings like this, nothing that's ever made him feel guilty for leaving despite this scenario hardly being his fault, nothing that's ever really made him feel missed while he was gone. Vikings don't cry if they can help it that even the hints of a sob tear into his chest.
His arms slip around her waist, tucking around a hoodie that finally starts to feel familiar to him. He smiles subtly within her hair when he recognizes it, pressing his nose there as he holds her in the embrace, no plans on letting go until she's ready for it (or until he needs to catch a breath from the tight hold, whichever comes first).]
Kind of feels like I did. Wouldn't be the first time. [He's got an ongoing tally of almost-death scenarios at this point.] But no, I'm — I'm here. Still in one piece. Mostly, anyway. At least I still got one foot.
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I went home too, but yours is a thousand years in the past because you're a Viking and I didn't want you to be dead, and you had to have been if you weren't here. I didn't know how to find you and I couldn't pretend you were alright — I couldn't.
no subject
I'm sorry. I — I wouldn't have just left like that if I could help it. [It's the honest truth. Not without ever giving her a proper goodbye at least. Some people here have become just too important to just walk out on without a word.] I wasn't even at Berk. One second I was here and the next I was still here, but, uh, just apparently took a snooze for a few months or something.
[Whatever that was. Much too complicated. It doesn't even matter right now.] But I am here. This is real, okay? There's no pretending needed, Verity.
no subject
They gutted your old apartment but I boxed up a few things, just in case. Some of your old, uh, clothes.
[ One hoodie of which was generously donated to the Sad Girl Willis cause. ]
no subject